


Black Seas and Black Hearts

by charmedward



Category: Black Sails, Treasure Island & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Canon-Typical Violence, First Kiss, First Meeting, M/M, Make Outs, Mild Threat, Shipwreck, established pirate captain Flint, light hurt / comfort, no john silver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-08-27 05:12:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16696084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charmedward/pseuds/charmedward
Summary: Pulling him from a tangle of rigging and sails was no easy task, but James persevered and soon freed the man.Two things were immediately apparent as James looked down upon his face; one, he was the most beautiful man that James had ever laid eyes on; and two, he wasn’t breathing.---Black Sails AU where James and Thomas didn't meet in London, but instead on the high seas after a storm.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [motherofdragons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/motherofdragons/gifts).



> This fic has been fully plotted out and I'm writing about 800 words a day at the moment. Originally it was a short work for motherofdragons, but it quickly snowballed into something greater! I hope you enjoy.

A sky the colour of worked steel stretched out for leagues in every direction, the vast horizon dwarfing the humble ship bobbing upon the waves. Clouds seemingly made of pure gunmetal lined the heavens and served as the only point of note beyond the ship’s limits.

James remembered the stories his mother would tell him as a babe, tales of clouds in the shape of dragons and chests of gold. She used to tell him that sailors would spend their whole lives chasing these wispy fantasies until a trickster wind dashed both their hopes and the clouds, leaving the sailors with nothing but an empty sky. Stories such as these always came with a moral, be it learning to navigate in a reliable fashion, or inspiring flights of fantasy – within reason. James’s mother had always been fond of a good story, especially ones that made her son the hero.

Now a man in his late thirties, James Flint stood proudly at the helm of his vessel, breathing in the salty air and feeling it bite at the back of his throat.

“It’s a cold one today, Captain.”

Hal Gates, Quartermaster for the _Walrus_ , approached his captain with a friendly nod. He had clearly just been relieved from the last watch of the night, his eyes bloodshot and his hands griping a flask.

The two men stood shoulder-to-shoulder in companionable silence, letting the waves below do the talking. Having abated since the storm of last night, the waves were a calming rhythmic pulse against the hull of the ship. James liked to think of them as the ship’s heartbeat, a _thud thud thud_ that was as predictable as the sunrise.

“What in the devil- Do you see that? Off to the starboard?” Gates’s attention had been caught by something in the distance, a shadow in a sapphire sea.

James took out his spyglass and trained his eye on the mysterious mass. What he saw made him shove his spyglass into Gates’s surprised grasp and shuck off his coat in one hurried motion. Kicking off his boots, James ran down the steps to the main deck and dived overboard.

He could hear Gates yelling for him before he even broke above the surface of the water, but he paid it no heed and began cutting through the ocean with strong, powerful strokes. Each length brought him closer to his goal and before a minute had passed James was clinging to a large piece of driftwood. From there he swam closer to what he now realised was the wreckage of a ship, one that had no survived last night’s storm. He darted around a pod of barrels and finally found what he was looking for – the survivor.

Pulling him from a tangle of rigging and sails was no easy task, but James persevered and soon freed the man.

Two things were immediately apparent as James looked down upon his face; one, he was the most beautiful man that James had ever laid eyes on; and two, he wasn’t breathing.

Dragging him back towards the _Walrus_ felt like an endless ordeal, with every second lowering the chances of ever waking the unconscious man. James could feel his time running out and he quickened his pace, reaching the hull of the _Walrus_ as Gates lowered a line.

Once aboard the ship again, James ignored Gates and the rest of his crew (who had seemingly emerged at Gates's shouting) and set to work pumping air into the stranger’s lungs. He pounded on his chest and pinched his nostrils closed, tilting the head back to allow him access to the blue lips.

Before James could press his lips to the stranger’s, the unconscious man spluttered and coughed up seawater. His breathing was erratic and ragged, but the coughing subsided and – mercifully – he opened his eyes.

 _There’s seawater in his eyes_ , was James’s first thought: Deep pools of blue with a suggestion of green and a hint of grey, a colour that refused definition. Stunning.

Captivated, James barely had the wherewithal to answer when the handsome stranger said “Who are you?”

“I might ask you the same question. My name is Captain James Flint, of the _Walrus_.”

The stranger sat up and took in the rugged group of men watching him. His eyes travelled over their heads and landed firmly on the skull and crossbones flying at the aft of the ship.

“Pirates,” he breathed, a look of disbelief plain across his features.

Suppressing the urge to tell his men to stop gawping and go back below-decks, James put on a reassuring face. “You will come to no harm from my men, I can assure you.”

The man nodded, more of an acknowledgement of the words themselves rather than an assessment of their merit. He ran a manicured hand through his short, sandy hair and took a deep breath. “I am Thomas Hamilton, of England. I think- I think I owe you my life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic then please feel free to say hi to me over on my tumblr: www.actualkatebishop.tumblr.com
> 
> if Black Sails gif sets are more your thing, then check out motherofdragon's edits at: www.autisticdaisyjohnson.tumblr.com/tagged/blacksailsedit


	2. Chapter Two

James stood with his forearms propped against the taffrail of the _Walrus_ , watching his crew manoeuvre their two rowboats around the wreckage of the lost ship. It was unlikely that there would be much salvage to be had, but it didn’t harm anyone to look. It wasn’t like the ship’s former crew would miss it. He squinted as one of the boats rowed a little further out, her passengers working together in practised harmony.

After a moment James left the men under Gates’s watchful eye and walked to his quarters. Outside the door he paused and firmly rapped three times. A voice immediately called out “Enter!” and James stepped inside.  

Thomas has his back to James as he entered, his gaze entirely focused on the waves crashing up against the room’s feature window. There wasn’t much in terms of decadence in these quarters, with James being an honourable man and ensuring that his crew always received more than their fair share of wages. What little money he kept for himself had been spent on meaningful items of great personal value, such as a fine collection cloth-bound books and an exemplary stationary set. Aside from that, the quarters had a heavy wood desk with a pair of chairs, a hammock and a trunk for clothing.  

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t provide you with a finer choice of clothing, but I see you’ve made do.”

Turning at the sound of James’s voice, Thomas indeed proved to be wearing a pair of dark trousers and a billowy blue shirt, both foraged from James’s collection. The sight of the taller man in James’s garments sparked an unsettling feeling deep in his stomach. Pushing it down, James strode over to one of the chairs and fell into it, sprawling out with exaggerated nonchalance. Taking the hint, Thomas sat in the chair on the other side of the desk, looking prim and proper if still a bit damp.

“I want to thank you for your hospitality,” began Thomas. “These clothes, the use of your quarters – it’s-”

“-Not free,” James finished. “This is a working ship, where every man earns his meals. Now we have enough food to spare until we reach the next port in three days, but no one on this ship is given special treatment.”

Thomas pursed his lips and regarded James for a moment. His eyes trailed down James’s chiselled face, from his wary eyes to chapped lips. His gaze lingered at the opening of James’s shirt, a light tuft of chest hair just visible.

“I come from a family of means.” Thomas said finally. “If you take me to the nearest port, I can contact them and ensure that you are handsomely compensated for your trouble.”

Satisfied, James agreed.

There was something about Thomas that bothered James. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it was almost as if the man’s very being triggered James’s fight or flight reflex. He could feel it, nagging away at his brain, telling him that this seemingly lucky survivor was trouble. A though clicked into place in his head and he leaned forward.

“How exactly did you come to be on the sunken ship, Mr Hamilton?”

Thomas’s expression grew pensive. “I had business on New Providence island. I was returning to England when the storm hit us. There was nothing the crew could do – it tore through the ship as though it were made of matchsticks.”

“You’re lucky to be alive,” James said.

“I have you to thank for that.” Thomas replied.

An uncomfortable silence fell and James found himself yearning for the company of men that he understood; this Englishman was so far removed from everything he knew. At least with his men there was an easy comradery to be found – with Thomas he didn’t know where he stood.

“Well,” Thomas began, not quite meeting James’s eye. “I shan’t keep you from your duties.”

James cleared his throat and got to his feet. “You’re welcome to read any of the books in these quarters. It’s not much, but I hope they’re to your liking.”

“I appreciate it, Captain Flint.”

Clearing his throat once more, James inclined his head towards Thomas and hurriedly left the cabin.

It was going to be a long three days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Chapter three will be posted immediately after this one.
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic then please feel free to say hi to me over on my tumblr: www.actualkatebishop.tumblr.com
> 
> if Black Sails gif sets are more your thing, then check out motherofdragon's edits at: www.autisticdaisyjohnson.tumblr.com/tagged/blacksailsedit


	3. Chapter Three

The smell of polish overpowered the ocean as James began to scrub his best pair of boots. He was sat on the quarterdeck of the ship, his eyes drifting over to the helmsman every so often, a companionable silence between the two of them. It wasn’t uncommon for James to be seen about the _Walrus_ doing various small tasks or talking with the men. He understood that a role such as his required a certain observable presence and a level of interest in the wellbeing of his crew. Other pirate crews heard the name James Flint and would feel a chill in their blood, but not James’s own – he knew their loyalty was paramount. A happy crew makes for plain sailing, that was the belief.

It was this reason and this reason alone that had James working on his boots on the deck. The fact that there was a preternaturally handsome man in his personal quarters had nothing to do with it. God, James’s skin prickled just thinking of him.

He began scrubbing with sudden vigour, willing himself to focus on his task. Unfortunately, polishing was a mindless chore and soon his thoughts had drifted back to his captain’s quarters and the mysterious man inside.

There was something about Thomas that James couldn’t pin down. While James didn’t have any special talent for reading people, he liked to think that an obvious tell wouldn’t pass him by. Thomas’s demeanour certainly matched that of British aristocracy, at least from what little experience James had with them, and the clothes he’d been wearing when James found him – though tattered – were finely made. There was no reason to distrust him, yet James felt as though Thomas was holding something back. Whether it was something of significance or not was impossible to determine, so the feeling sat at the back of his mind and festered.

“May I join you?”

James looked up and saw Thomas standing in front of him, an expectant smile on his face and a book tucked under one arm.

“Of course,” James replied, a little late.

Thomas seated himself next to the Captain, his thigh almost touching James’s.

“Are you, ahem, comfortable in my clothes?” James asked, trying not to look at how tight the material was on Thomas’s legs.

“I am more comfortable than I would have been in my sodden rags.”

Saying nothing, James kept his eyes down and carried on with his task. Thomas watched him for an excruciating moment. The seconds dragged out and James wrestled with a sudden swell of dread.

For a moment James couldn’t place the feeling, but then Thomas tilted his head back to gaze at the azure sky and the sun seemed to make his blond hair glow like a halo. The realisation hit James like a cannonball.

He sighed and set down his boots.

“How are you with heights?” James asked.

Blinking in surprise, Thomas replied, “Fine.”

James rose and made for the rigging. Not stopping to see if Thomas was following, James swung himself up and started to climb up to the mizzen top.

When he reached the small platform, James sat with his legs dangling and a sizeable space for Thomas. Although he didn’t have much need to climbing the rigging on a regular basis, James was still comfortable perching at this elevation and had no fear of being close to the edge.

Thomas joined him faster than James expected, a light sweat on his brow and the book still under one arm. He took his place beside James once more and exhaled in relief.

“What a remarkable view,” he said.

“Indeed. I sometimes come up here to think, or when I feel like being alone.”

Smiling, Thomas caught James’s eye, “Is your cabin not enough?”

James felt his cheeks go red and he gave Thomas a small smile. “Being up here is like being in another world. Any problems that I have down on the ship don’t come up here with me. Up here I’m just a man staring at the sea.”

A seagull cried out to its flock overhead and rode the air currents with grace, soaring high as it came into formation with its brethren.

“And what problems are we avoiding now, Captain Flint?”

“James, please.”

Thomas laughed, a light, pleasant sound that pulled at James’s gut. “If you insist.”

A question gnawed at him and as he struggled to phrase it inconspicuously, he decided on a direct tact.

“What business did you have on New Providence island, Mr Hamilton?”

Thomas smiled again, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Call me Thomas. As for my business, I’m afraid it was something of a failure.”

 “How so?” James pressed.

“My father was right – Nassau is a thriving hub of iniquity, with even the most pious of men unable to see the benefits that falling into line with the crown would bring.” Thomas lets out a huff of exasperation and shuts his eyes. “Of course, I can understand how a lawless land may seem enticing, but society cannot prosper unless we work within a structured government. It is the only logical path.”

 “You speak of men as though they care about more than where the next meal is coming from.”

Looking surprised, Thomas opened his eyes to regard James. “Do you believe the common man incapable of planning for his future?”

“Not at all, but what good will planning for a future do when you’re at risk of starving in the present?”

Thomas considered this. “It seems there is much I had not considered. May I ask why you’re interested in what my business was?”

A wave of self-consciousness and anxiety hit James.

“I only ask because I thought you might be here on other matters. It’s not important.”

The lie hung between them for a moment, all but visible to both men as soon as it left James’s lips. He wanted to say something else to clear the air, but as the silence stretched on it became clear that his thoughts were not going to move away from the matter at hand.

“I should get back,” James said awkwardly. “Stay up here as long as you want. And you can have my hammock tonight,” he added as an afterthought. “I’ll sleep on the deck.”

“I don’t want to trouble you-” Thomas began, but James was already disappearing back down the rigging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Chapter Four will be up tomorrow.
> 
> Until then, you can say hi to me via my tumblr: www.actualkatebishop.tumblr.com
> 
> or check out motherofdragons's Black Sails edits at: www.autisticdaisyjohnson.tumblr.com/tagged/blacksailsedit


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is pretty short, but the next few chapters should be longer! We've got about five more to go so buckle in, kids.

The evening found James and most of the crew gathered on the main deck, forming a ring around a pair of duelling men. Wooden swords collided, the crew cheered and James watched with approval, judging the form of both men. They’d been sparring for a few moments and their shirts were soaked through with sweat from the strain of their efforts.

“Knock him on his arse, Billy!” Gates yelled.

Circling his opponent with careful, precise footwork, Billy Bones appeared to be looking for an opening in Joji’s defence. Practise fight or not, Joji wasn’t taking it easy on the younger man and Billy had sustained a number of bumps and bruises from the sparring swords.

Joji lunged forward, feinted left and in a flash swung right. Wood impacted on skin and the force threw Billy down to his knees. Joji levelled the blunt end of his sword at Billy’s throat and a small smile quirked at the corner of his mouth.

“We have our winner,” James declared. “Joji gets a day’s worth of Billy’s beer ration. Good fight.”

Scattered cheers and grumbles broke out as the men privately exchanged coins and settled their bets; Gates in particular seemed to be handing out a sizeable number of coins to various crew members.

On the other side of the ring James noticed Thomas sat atop a barrel, watching him with interest, the book from earlier open but ignored in his lap. A surge of something unknown stirred in his stomach and James stepped into the ring, relieving Billy of his training sword.

“May I?” James asked, turning to face Joji.

The other man nodded and raised his sword. They bowed to each other and sprung into action, dodging blows and fluidly moving through the air as though they weighed nothing. James and Joji quickly found their rhythm and set a gruelling pace that had them both panting before any time had passed. Joji scored the first point with a quick rap to James’s knuckles, causing him to drop his sword. He dived forward into a roll and managed to pick up the sword before Joji could land a follow-up.

The fight began anew, with blows being traded with such force that James felt his teeth rattle in his skull. This was a fight between masters, a rare display for the crew and almost comforting to the duellers. Catching Joji on his ribs, James rocked with the movements of the ship and span out of reach before Joji could retaliate.

They continued at this speed for several minutes and only slowed when Randall’s cat Betsy wove her way through the crowd and into the ring. She rubbed up against James’s legs and found a spot in the middle of the ring to lie down and stretch out, purring happily. Whether oblivious to the sparring or determined to be the centre of attention, it was unclear what her motive was, but obvious that she wasn’t going to move any time soon.

“A draw?” James offered, not taking his eyes off Joji.

Joji considered the offer for a second and then nodded, relaxing his stance and crouching to pet Betsy. The rest of the crew began to disperse into smaller groups, but James was only looking for an individual.

He saw Thomas still sat on his barrel, book in hand and a wry smile on his face. He mouthed “well done” to James before slipping off and returning to James’s cabin. James felt his heart skip a beat as he watched Thomas go, his eyes trailing down Thomas’s back and noticing how taunt the fabric was across his ass.

_Shit_ , he was in trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading chapter four!
> 
> As always, you can reach me at www.actualkatebishop.tumblr.com
> 
> For more original Black Sails content check out motherofdragons's edits at www.autisticdaisyjohnson.tumblr.com/tagged/blacksailsedit


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this chapter! I had a bit of a low period over the weekend and it impacted how much I wrote. These next two chapters are going to be extra nice to make up for it.

The next morning arrived considerably warmer than its predecessor, with the sun blazingly hot from the moment it appeared over the horizon. As the first rays of sunlight bled onto the deck of the _Walrus_ , James groaned and rolled over in his sleep, his coat slipping off his unconscious form. Belowdecks, the crew began to wake, a low murmur travelling up through the wood to where James lay. The sounds stirred him, making him groggily open his eyes and momentarily losing his bearings.

A rich blue ceiling stretched out above him, cloudless and endless. It was the kind of sky that every sailor wished for, promising a peace that would hopefully last until they made port. James stared up at it until the events of yesterday came back to him in a rush, like a wave crashing over a rock. He thought of Thomas, and how lucky the man was to be alive. The odds of finding a survivor in a wreck like the one Thomas had been pulled from were unimaginably small, yet there he had been, an impossible miracle. Something about the man didn’t feel real to James as he lay there on the deck – it almost felt as though saving Thomas had been a dream.

Before he could think better of it, James got to his feet and headed for his cabin. Like a fisherman winding in a line he was drawn to the ornate door and he found himself gently rapping on the wood.

Silence.

Heart beating fast, James pushed open the door.

Inside, the cabin was dimly lit, with only a single candle lit and the rest of the light streaming in from the windows. Everything looked as James had left it, with maps and various documents strewn over his desk and a lone shirt sleeve lolling out of his clothing trunk like a tongue. The only thing amiss was his hammock.

Thomas was frustratingly beautiful – by which James meant that his sleeping form was so gorgeous that he lacked the appropriate comparison or vocabulary to articulate it. If he had had a fine education he might have drawn parallels between Thomas’s features and the handsome subjects depicted by classical portrait artists or ancient stonemasons. If he could find the words for the look of peaceful tenderness on the sleeping man’s face then maybe he would have utilised Shakespearean sonnets or Renaissance verse, perhaps poems or passages of plays. This man’s beauty deserved to be heralded from the rooftops, yet James had not the means to do any of this. Instead he stood in the threshold and longed – _yearned_ – to wake to such a sight every morn.

His thoughts were interrupted as Thomas’s brow furrowed and the sleeping man began to wake. Blue eyes blinked open and a yawn emerged with lethargic impatience.

“Good morning,” James said softly.  

“Good morning.”

Thomas looked up at him quizzically, a question apparent on his face. James faltered and wracked his mind for something to say.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he began. “I came to see how you slept.”

It wasn’t exactly true, but it was a better answer than saying a foreign urge compelled him to see if Thomas had been a dream or reality.

Smiling, Thomas said “As well as any man can on a rocking ship, although I expect that’s a learned behaviour.”

“You get used to it,” James replied.

With uncertain movements Thomas tried to rise from the hammock, but his precarious balance was knocked when the ship took a sudden dip, sending him tumbling out of the fabric and into James’s arms. Without thinking, James held Thomas steady and helped him find his footing. Their bodies still pressed together, James tilted his head up just a fraction to meet Thomas’s gaze. The air seemed to be charged, as though a lightning storm were about to crash into life. James swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, and found himself looking at Thomas’s lips. At this close proximity he could see the flaws of Thomas’s skin; a small freckle, the hint of stubble, a red blemish. An absurd thought crept into James’s head and he fought back the urge to taste these lips with his own.

Thomas’s lips parted as he took a shaky breath. “James-”

James took a step backwards. His eyes fell to the middle distance behind Thomas.

“The wind isn’t strong today and the temperature is rising – the men will be swimming to cool off throughout the day. They don’t have bathing suits, so try not to lose your breakfast if you see any of them after a swim.’

“That bad?”

“They make the whores of Nassau cry, although that might be their general aversion to soap more than anything else.”

Thomas laughed, “I’ll be sure to steel myself before leaving this cabin.”

“Good. Well. I’ll… leave you to it.”

Turning to go, James couldn’t help but steal one last glance over his shoulder at Thomas before walking out and back into the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Chapter six should be up tomorrow.
> 
> As always, you can find me on tumblr at: www.actualkatebishop.tumblr.com
> 
> Need some mood music? Listen to motherofdragons's flinthamilton playlist here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5hGBxQhPk0lG8XbpnePMdo


	6. Chapter Six

It was a little after noon before Thomas left the sanctity of James’s cabin and stepped out into the scorching midday heat. He had opted to wear only a loose-fitting shirt and a pair of breathable trousers, the temperature dissuading him of his usual love for layers.

“Thomas,” called a familiar voice. “Over here!”

Thomas turned in the direction of the voice and came face-to-face with James’s rippling abs. Feeling a flush growing across his cheeks, Thomas hurriedly looked up to meet James’s eyes.

“I was just about to take a swim,” James continued, seemingly oblivious to Thomas’s flustered state. “Would you care to join me?”

Wetting his lips and trying to focus on the conversation, Thomas replied, “That sounds like a marvellous idea.”

“Great – you can leave your clothes on the deck.”

“Pardon?”

But James had already walked away, untying the laces of his own trousers as he approached the taffrail. In a matter of seconds he had stripped down to nothing and, unceremoniously dumping his clothes on the deck, dived into the water below. Thomas blinked, took a hesitant step forward and looked around nervously at the nearby crewmembers.

“Are you coming?” James called from somewhere out of sight.

Steeling himself for this act of bravery, Thomas stripped down to his smallclothes, made his way to the taffrail and, using a guide rope dangling over the side of the ship, lowered himself into the ocean beside James.

The cool ocean met him like a lover, enveloping him in a fluid embrace and planting salty kisses on his lips and cheeks. It was fairly calm as oceans go, the gentle rippling waves a world away from the stormy seas of two nights ago.

“Do you do this often?” Thomas asked.

“Not as much as I’d like.”

“Aren’t you worried about sharks?”

James laughed. “Sharks prefer to stay close to beaches – out here in the open sea all we have to fear is a cramp.”

Nervously glancing down to the endless blue below, Thomas said. “I’m not sure that’s as reassuring as you hoped it to be.”

James sent a splash of water directly at Thomas’s face and kicked off out of reach before Thomas could retaliate. They swam circles around each other, playfully wrestling and trying to dunk the other before, tired, treading water together beside the _Walrus_. Thomas rested a hand on James’s shoulder for support, and he found himself breathless at the touch.

Slowly, achingly slowly, James raised a hand and used the pad of his thumb to brush the salt water off Thomas’s lower lip. Enraptured, Thomas stayed as still as possible, scared of doing anything to ruin the moment.

“Who are you, Thomas Hamilton? Why were we brought together?”

Thomas had no answer for this. He stared as James ran his thumb along the sharp line of his jaw, shuddered when it grazed his throat. Goosebumps prickled at his skin even in the midday heat and it was all he could do not to lean in and-

“We’ve been out here long enough,” James said suddenly. “I should check on our heading.”

He pulled away and swam to the hull of the ship, catching hold of the rope Thomas had made use of earlier and easily pulling himself hand-over-hand out of the water. Thomas allowed himself a moment of appreciation, as James had opted to leave all of his clothing on the deck, unlike the more modest Thomas. The captain’s muscular body was toned in a way that suggested years of hard labour and – judging by the odd scar here and there – plenty of battles.

Now back on the deck, James turned and caught Thomas watching him. He smirked, apparently comfortable in his skin, and threw the rope out for Thomas to catch.

“Don’t stay out there for too long, shark bait.”

Thomas hurriedly began to climb.

*

Later that night, James found himself once again on the other side of his own cabin doors, this time with a pair of steaming hot bowls. The smell that wafted up from each bowl wasn’t exactly pleasant, but then they had been at sea for well over a fortnight at this point and Randall had begun experimenting with the leftover foods. Something that may have been a chopped radish bobbed against the side of a bowl as James carefully opened the door and stepped inside.

“I’ve brought supper,” he said. “I hope you’re hungry for mystery vegetables stew.”

Thomas, who was sitting by the windows with a new book in hand, smiled. “This is a welcome surprise; I take it we’re not eating with the crew tonight?”

Placing the bowls on the desk, James chortled and fell into the other chair. “Mr Gates tells me that there’s something of a wager between the men as to whether or not you’ll be able to keep Randall’s famous mystery broth down. I figured we’d spare you an evening of speculation.”

“How considerate, yet here I was hoping you sought a private audience for personal reasons,” Thomas said.

Feeling his heart hammer, James took a large gulp of his broth – and promptly winced as the burning hot liquid met his throat. He tried to hide his blistering mouth with a forced smile. Thomas left his own bowl to cool.

“I really think that this is some of the finer food that Randall has made in years,” James babbled, “I suppose it’s because the crew have him convinced that you’re an English prince.”

Thomas quirked an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Unable to hold back this sudden outspoken outburst, James continued, “Yes; and I don’t imagine it was a hard pitch to sell. You’ve had the free use of my cabin since you arrived and…” James trailed off.

“And?”

Not meeting his curious eye, James said, “You look as though you have noble blood in your veins.”

“And what does that look like?” Thomas asked gently.

“Like a face that great artists capture in marble busts.”

It came out before James could stop himself. He hadn’t mean to vocalise the thought, hadn’t even meant to _think_ it let alone say it aloud. It was too dangerous, he was breaking it.

“Excuse me,” James said, shakily rising.

Dazed, he fumbles his way past the chair and, mercifully, to the door. He grabbed the handle like a lifeline, pushing down the panic that threatened to override his senses.

“Stay.”

Thomas’s voice is so soft that James thought he imagined it at first, but then, louder, Thomas said, “ _Stay_ ” again and James found himself frozen. His eyes were screwed shut, salty tears pounding for release against his eyelids. Every part of him felt like a sharp edge, raw and exposed, a nerve so fragile.

“Please,” Thomas added. “Please stay.”

Releasing the door handle, James allowed his forehead to slowly _thunk_ against the wooden panel of the door. He breathed in the familiar aroma of his cabin, granted his heart the seconds it needed to return to a steady rhythm: _thud, thud thud_ ; the pounding of waves.

“What do you fear?” asked Thomas.

“The past. What could have been. What may still be.”

“Tell me.”

The directive made James face Thomas again. A mixture of emotions – confusion, pain – clouded Thomas’s expression as he regarded the other man. When James did not immediately answer Thomas got up, crossed the room and stopped in front of him. Gently, he reached up and brushed a lock of hair out of James’s eyes.

“Are we to keep dancing around the matter? I did not take you for a coward, Captain Flint.”

“You have no idea who I am,” James whispered.

“Then tell me.”

Water began to pour into James’s lungs. He gulped it down until it filled them whole and started to spill out of his mouth, making him gag. He doubled over, the briny ocean suffocating and choking him until he fell to his knees and clawed at his chest, nails digging into shirt, into skin.

Thomas is drowned out in a cacophony of turbulent noise, a roar building into a massive crescendo of choked screams. The cabin walls constricted and closed in on James, forming a perfect coffin around his body.

Thomas slaps him.

“ _James!_ Breathe.”

The jolt of pain focused him. Like an anchor, James felt himself coming back, his senses gradually receding, no longer telling him that he was drowning. His aching chest rises and falls unobstructed, his lungs sore and his throat hoarse, but fine. The sea spray on his forehead was sweat, the cabin walls still no more than walls. He was okay. He could breathe.  

“Thomas.”

“I’m here.”

They’re huddled on the floor. James has been partially pulled into Thomas’s lap, his weight entirely on the taller man. Thomas’s strong arms are wrapped around him, holding tight as though James would disappear should Thomas lose his grip. A hand pets James’s hair soothingly.

They take their time before proceeding, both slowing their breathing and asking no more of the other. When long enough has passed, when James can put himself back together, he finds the words to explain.

Carefully, in prickly, barbed words that tear at a piece of him, James spilled his soul. He told Thomas of his past in the British Navy, of his time serving on a vessel with another extraordinary man, a man James thought he knew. He told Thomas of his affair with this man, and then he tells him of his betrayal, of how a prominent officer of the Royal Navy suddenly became a scandalous rouge, destined for the hangman’s noose. Thomas continued to hold James throughout, his embrace only tightening as James recounts his escape into a career of piracy and solitude.

When he’s done, when there’s no more story to tell, Thomas pressed a soft kiss to James’s temple and said, “If I had the honour of being yours, you would not need fear for your safety. Already you have given me life by rescuing me at sea. Allow me to return the deed.”

James tilted his head back and searched Thomas’s face for any hint of deception. Finding none, he sat up and pressed his lips to Thomas’s. It lasted only a second. They parted and locked eyes again; then, at some unspoken prompt, they came together again and kissed passionately. Thomas’s hands found their way to James’s jaw and he held tightly, certain to leave a mark for the morning.

Groaning, James grabbed Thomas’s shoulders and pulled them closer. The kissing grew more heated and all thoughts, save for ones of a carnal nature, were forgotten, lost in the ocean of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this one took longer than the others! It's longer, so I hope that makes up for it. We're more than halfway through, so it felt only right to give the boys their first kiss. I hope you enjoyed reading it!
> 
> As always, you can find me on tumblr at: www.actualkatebishop.tumblr.com
> 
> Anna's Black Sails edits are at: www.autisticdaisyjohnson.tumblr.com/tagged/blacksailsedit
> 
> And her flinthamilton playlist is here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5hGBxQhPk0lG8XbpnePMdo


	7. Chapter Seven

The third day at sea passed without incident, though the restlessness of the crew as the ship neared land was palpable. Gates had a difficult time keeping the men on task throughout the day, with all conversations eventually turning to fantasies of what the men would do when they next made port.

James was equally distracted with similar thoughts, his mind on little else than the time running out before Thomas would be departing. The impending deadline for his newfound bond with Thomas had kept him up all night, demanding his attention even as he lay in his hammock with Thomas draped over him. The taller man had slept peacefully against James’s chest, his steady breathing a comfort in the solid darkness of the cabin.  

“James? Did you hear me?”

Jolting back to the present, James refocused his eyes and found Thomas frowning slightly. They were sat on the floor next to James’s small bookcase, the quiet clink of the chains that attached the spines of the books to their lodging a persistent yet pleasant sound.  Two candles burned beside them.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” James replied.

“I was saying that there is something I want to talk to you about. It’s… it’s important.”

Something twisted in James’s gut at the sight of Thomas’s face and he realised that whatever this conversation was about, it wasn’t going to be easy.

“Can it wait? I need to check on the crew – I haven’t left this room since supper.”

Thomas’s frown grew more pronounced, but he nodded and stood up. “Some fresh air would be welcome.”

The two men made their way outside and onto the quartermaster’s deck, where Gates was in conversation with a small group of men. A look of relief flashed over Gates’s face and he gestured in James’s direction as he approached.

“-you should really ask the Captain.”

“Ask me what?”

Almost as one, the group of pirates turned to their captain with a range of expressions on their faces, mostly hopeful or, in one or two cases, apprehensive. There was a slight pause, until one man was elbowed and almost pushed to the front of the group.

“Rumour is,” Billy Bones began, “that you have a personal stash of spiced rum in your quarters, Captain.”

James raised an eyebrow, “What of it?”

Behind the group, Gates rolled his eyes, but the hint of a grin tugged at his mouth.

“Well, Captain, Sir, we were hoping that you might find it fit to share with the crew, on account of it being our last night with Mr Hamilton and all,” Billy said, all too quickly.

Thomas coughed and Billy’s ears turned red.

“I only mean that we should throw him a party, to celebrate our time together… if you will. Captain.”

For a few tense seconds no one said anything and Billy seemed to wilt under James’s hard gaze.

Then, all of a sudden, James clapped a hand onto Billy’s shoulder and said, “Fine idea. A celebration we shall have.”

The rum was brought out and watered down enough to share amongst the whole crew, causing a number of cheers from the men, who had long since burned through any surplus rations of alcohol. Games of cards and dice were set up and several men produced instruments; a few voices break out into drinking songs and sea shanties. It was the happiest that James had seen his crew since their last big haul.

“This will be a night to remember,” Thomas said, standing beside James.

Unable to show the level of affection he wanted to, James leaned his shoulder against Thomas’s and sighed. “They’ll all have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

“Then I hope tonight is worth the consequences tomorrow will bring.”

James didn’t know what to say to that.

They stood on the quarterdeck and watched as the men below them lied and cheated, drank and gamed, danced and cursed. The chaos came together to form a sort of peace, in the same way that anything becomes peaceful once it can be understood and predicted. James knew which of his men would be hiding cards up their sleeves just as he knew that some would be pilfering extra cups of rum when their peers were distracted. The only variable he didn’t fully understand was Thomas.

“Do you play?” James asked, gesturing at the group of men playing instruments below.

“No,” Thomas replied, slowly, “but I can sing.”

At this admission, James felt as though there was nothing in his life that he wanted more than to hear Thomas sing. “Sing for me,” he said.

Looking off into the darkness beyond the ship, Thomas replied, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Discreetly, James took Thomas’s hand and squeezed it. The two men locked eyes. “Please?”

Thomas tipped his head back and seemed to search the stars for the willpower to deny James this request. Not finding it, he exhaled steadily and began to sing.

It was intoxicating. Although James had never heard the song before he found himself humming along, invested in the rise and fall of the rhythm. The crew below fell silent to listen too, even the instruments went quiet.

It seemed that while money couldn’t pay for talent, it certainly could pay for a fine music teacher, as Thomas put his all into the song, his strong voice carrying clearly through the night air.

James took over the wheel from the helmsman and lost himself in the sound of Thomas’s voice, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Thomas himself looked angelic, his eyes closed and a hand on his chest as it rose and fell. James could listen to him forever. He could die happy having heard this gorgeous man-

He was snapped out of his trance as Gates suddenly manhandled him away from the wheel, sharply pulling his arms back behind him. James stumbled and blinked in confusion, his gaze falling on Thomas, who had fallen silent; Thomas, who had been pinned down underneath several crewmembers; Thomas, who had been gagged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun! What's going?! Is Thomas okay? And how will James deal with their upcoming separation when they dock at the next port - assuming they make it that far! Find out next time...
> 
> Until then, you can yell at me on tumblr at www.actualkatebishop.tumblr.com
> 
> Anna's Black Sails edits are at: www.autisticdaisyjohnson.tumblr.com/tagged/blacksailsedit
> 
> And her flinthamilton playlist is here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5hGBxQhPk0lG8XbpnePMdo
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter Eight

“What the _hell_ is going on?” James yelled, straining against Gates’s grasp.

The uproar from the lower deck drowned him out. No one save Gates paid him any mind as the men who held Thomas called for rope. The helmsman threw a coil to Billy before he returned to the wheel and sharply changed their course.

“Get off him!”

“Easy, Captain,” Gates replied. “They’re not hurting him.”

Sure enough, though Thomas had been tied up and gagged, he looked unharmed. Billy yanked Thomas to his feet and held him firm.

“You,” he addressed Flint, “nearly killed the lot of us.”

James pulled himself free from Gates’s hold. “Have you lost your mind? Unhand him at once.”

Looking to Gates for confirmation, Billy shook his head and clung tighter.

“You were sailing us towards the rocks! They could have ripped through the hull and wrecked us before you snapped out of it!”

James glanced around at his surroundings and realised that Billy was right – they were alongside a cliff, perilously close to the treacherous rocks guarding it. The light that emanated from the ship wasn’t enough to fully illuminate more than the suggesting of a landscape beyond the cliff face, but James recognised the patch of rocks as a landmark signally their proximity to the next port.

“He bewitched you, Captain,” Gates added.

“It’s not possible-”

Before he could finish the thought, James spotted a rigger silently approaching Thomas, knife in hand.

“ _No!”_

Throwing himself forward, James put his own body between Thomas and the knife. “Any man who harms Thomas will be keelhauled until dead, _do you hear me_?”

A wary look is exchanged between the rigger and Gates. The older man put his hands up and started to walk towards James. “Captain, please-“

James’s fury overrode his patience and he yelled, “Enough! Thomas will go to my quarters for questioning and no one is to disturb us. Is that understood, Mr Gates?”

Mute, Gates could only nod.

Wasting no time, James had Thomas half escorted half carried back to his cabin, where he dismissed Billy and the other men and locked the door.

James paced the length of the cabin for a moment, doing what he could to keep his emotions in check before he removed Thomas’s gag and – leaving his hands bound – sat down opposite him.

“What are you?”

“I tried to tell you-“

“No,” James interrupted. “You don’t get to place blame. You nearly killed us all. What the hell are you?”

Pearlescent tears formed in Thomas’s blue eyes and he blinked them away as best he could. “Your people call me a siren. I’m an enchanter, one who can’t control how his voice affects those it attracts.”

James scoffed. “Sirens are an old wives’s tale.”

“It’s true, believe me. That’s why you didn’t realise you were steering us towards the rocks.”

As impossible as it sounded, Thomas didn’t look as though he was lying. If anything, he looked as though he was scared that James would believe him.

“If what you say is true then why was I the only man to fall for your spell? Why was my crew unaffected?”

“Because I can only affect those who are attracted to me.” Thomas blushed. “I suspect your crew would have reacted the same as you did were I a woman.”

Understanding dawned on James and he had a terrible thought.

“The shipwreck that I saved you from… you caused that.”

“No. James, I didn’t. I’ve never hurt a soul in my life. You can’t think-”

Cutting him off, James found himself unable to look at Thomas any longer. “Enjoy the rest of your night on the ship; it’ll be your last.”

Ignoring the other man’s protests, James stormed out of the cabin and made for the rigging. Heaving himself up the ropes in quick, sharp movements he tried to silence the dozens of thoughts raging through his head. Above all else he felt that he had finally decided what to do when tomorrow came – he could ditch Thomas at the port and sail away without regret, without wondering what life would be like with the other man at his side.

High above his ship and his crew, James started to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, this was always going to be a Siren!AU, haha. Only two more chapters to go!
> 
> Find me on tumblr at www.actualkatebishop.tumblr.com
> 
> Anna's Black Sails edits are at: www.autisticdaisyjohnson.tumblr.com/tagged/blacksailsedit
> 
> And her flinthamilton playlist is here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5hGBxQhPk0lG8XbpnePMdo
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter Nine

The crew was still snoring when James left the _Walrus_. They had sailed into port late last night and weighed anchor as the final dregs of rum were downed and the last men staggered off to bed. It had been too dark for the inebriated crew to bother making the journey off the ship and into the familiar darkness of the awaiting town, so no one had disembarked – until now.  
James hadn’t slept. His bloodshot eyes scanned the deserted pre-dawn streets and dimly made out the rough shape of the town, still sleeping. Dead leaves crunched underfoot as he strode past closed-up stores and competing brothels. His destination wasn’t clear at this point, each step automatic but directionless. All James wanted was to put some distance between Thomas and himself.

The sting of betrayal hadn’t faded since last night’s reveal, the implications having been responsible for his sleepless night. How had he found himself here? It felt like one moment he had been blissfully happy and then the illusion had shattered. Of course it wasn’t real, of course the Thomas he thought he knew had been a fantasy, too fragile to survive the transition into reality.

A cold wind raced past him, picking up the bottom of his coat and making shop signs sway: One sign in particular stood out. James pulled himself together and made for the front door.

_The Pony and the Piper_ was a small pub, as far as pubs go, but what it lacked in size it made up for in ambiance. Even at this early hour a fire was burning and the smell of freshly baked bread wafted in from another room. Candles flickered on every table and several were ensconced on the panelled walls, giving the room a warm, comforting glow. The only other person in the room besides James was a snoring man sat at the bar, with an unfinished drink stood beside his head.

James took a seat several stools down from the man and waited. Not five minutes later a burly woman with a mop of unkempt hair walked in carrying a tray piled high with loaves of bread and hunks of cheese.

“Begging your pardon, Sir – I didn’t realise there was anyone out here except old Alfred.”

Waving off the apology, James cleared his throat and fixed his eyes on the bread. “Pint of whatever tastes best and half a loaf of bread. Please,” he added as an afterthought.

“As you wish,” replied the woman, setting down her tray and pulling out a bread knife. “Bit early for new faces. Did you sail in last night?”

“Yes.”

Ignoring James’s reluctance for conversation, the barmaid chatted away amenably, preparing James’s food as she did so.

“Sorry,” James interrupted as she set his meal down in front of him. “Did you say something about a wreck?”

“The _Flying Susan,_ about three days from here. Poor sods. Sounds like only one of their boys made it off in one piece. He was saying the most peculiar things when Captain Vane brought him back to shore.”

Just like that, James’s hunger disappeared. Waves crashed in his stomach, the roaring filled his ears and threatened to drown him like the crew of the _Susan_.

He and his crew were lucky to be alive. Their fates could so easily have been switched with that of the _Susan_ and he could be at the bottom of the ocean right now, salt water filling his lungs as he always knew it would.

“It was a siren,” croaked an old voice.

James turned his head to regard the hunched over form of the other pub patron, the old man now awake and staring intently at James.

“Sirens don’t exist, Alfred. They’re fantasies captains tell their crew to keep them vigilant on long voyages.”

James didn’t break eye contact with the man. He looked for something in the man’s face, some semblance of a lie, or insanity perhaps, but he came up emptyhanded.

“You’re sure of this?” he asked.

“Spoke to him myself. Said he saw the whole thing.”

Unable to stop himself, James pressed on. “What was he like?”

Alfred frowned. “The sailor?”

“The siren.”

There’s an uneasy pause before Alfred replied. “It was a woman. They pulled her from the sea and she had them all under her spell as soon as they laid eyes on her. All save the survivor, of course. He said she made them sail into a storm head-on. They never stood a chance.”

James shook his head, the details of Alfred’s story rattled around his skull and finally clicked into place.

Thomas wasn’t responsible for sinking the _Flying Susan_ ; just why he was amongst the wreckage was still unclear, but what was important was that he was innocent.

Throwing down too much coin for his untouched food, James leapt to his feet and ran for the door. He had to find Thomas.

*  
Back on the _Walrus_ , James stopped to catch his breath. The crew was awake and lively now, most of them on their way to port or finishing up breakfast belowdecks by the sound of it. Barrelling past them, James went straight to his cabin.

It was empty.

“Mr Gates!” James roared. “Where’s Thomas?”

Gates jogged over to the cabin’s entrance, breakfast crumbs still visible in his facial hair. “I had Billy and a few boys take him to the town’s jail first thing, Captain. Is there a problem?”

It was like the floor had been yanked out from under him. James cursed softly and pushed past Gates, already calculating the fastest route to the jail in his head.

“Captain.” At Gate’s tone, James turned, his blood turning to ice in his veins. “I told the jailer he was dangerous. I told them to hang him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will James reach the jail in time? Will Thomas ever forgive him? Find out next time! 
> 
> Find me on tumblr at www.actualkatebishop.tumblr.com
> 
> Anna's Black Sails edits are at: www.autisticdaisyjohnson.tumblr.com/tagged/blacksailsedit
> 
> And her flinthamilton playlist is here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5hGBxQhPk0lG8XbpnePMdo


	10. Chapter Ten

_“I told them to hang him.”_

Gates’s words echoed loudly in James’s head as he sprinted to the town’s jail. Luckily for him, he had visited this town often enough to know it quite well, and he didn’t have far to go. His cutlass slapped against his thigh with every movement, matching the pounding of blood in his ears as he ran. A stitch formed in his side but he gritted his teeth and pushed through it.

“Murderer!”

“Demon!”

James rounded the corner and almost slammed into the tail end of a large gathering that was camped out in front of the town’s jail. People of all social classes had joined the crowd, young and old alike, to witness something James vowed to put a stop to. He shouldered his way through the masses and nearly punched a man who refused to get out of his way.

Squeezing out onto the other side, James found the entrance to the jail guarded by two men in uniform, pistols holstered at their hips. He reached for the door regardless and was shoved back by one of the guards.

“Let me through,” James growled.

“No civilian enters, by order of the town magistrate,” the guard said.

James snarled and gripped the pommel of his sword. “You’ll let me in if you want to keep your heads.”

The second guard, noticeably younger and easily intimidated, shot a pleading look at his companion. The other man seemed to weigh his options for a moment – then moved out of James’s way. James was through the door before either man had the opportunity to doubt their actions.

He found the cells at the back of the building, having dodged a sizeable number of guards as he did so. The jail seemed unnaturally busy, although with a mob at their front door it wasn’t that surprising. James caught snippets of conversations as he stalked through the halls to the cells; most of the guards were talking about Thomas and the rumours they’d heard about sirens. It made James’s blood boil.

Stepping into the cellblock, James saw three figures before. The town magistrate, a middle-aged man with an ostentatious wig, was deep in conversation with a jailer, the latter a balding individual with a ring of keys hanging from his belt. Standing in the cell behind them was Thomas.

He looked a little beaten up and bloodied, but was otherwise in one piece. A gag was still in place around his mouth and his hands seemed to have been cuffed behind him to prevent him removing it. He was the only person to notice James enter the room.

“We can’t just hang a man without a trial, Simon. There are _laws_ -”

“Laws which only apply to humans, this is a monster,” argued the jailer.

“Preposterous! I won’t allow an execution to take place based on heresy and old wives’s tales.”

The two men were silenced as James unsheathed his blade, the steel ringing out against its scabbard in a clear, drawn out note.

“Gentlemen,” he said. “I’m here for your prisoner.”

The magistrate looked flabbergast. “Who the hell are _you_?”

James started to walk towards the men, like a cat creeping up on a pair of mice. “I’m the man who vouches for Thomas Hamilton’s innocence, and if you don’t release him to me there will be a heavy price to pay.”

Flailing for a weapon, the jailer grabbed a lit torch from a wall sconce. He brandished it clumsily, almost as though he imagined James would run at the sight of flames.

James kept walking.

“Stop right there!” the magistrate squealed. “This man is a criminal. I won’t hand him over to you!”

 At the magistrate’s words James saw Thomas deflate, as though the words tumbling from this terrified man would defy James.

Looking Thomas in the eyes, James said, “Thomas Hamilton has done nothing wrong. He did not commit the murders that you’re holding him for, nor do I believe him to be a threat to anyone.” He then turned to face the magistrate. “But if you or your meagre guard-dog dare to stand against me then I promise you sir, you have found yourself a threat.”

“Seize him!” the magistrate cried.

The jailer lunged forward with his outstretched flame and James dodged it easily, then used the opening it gave him to slash at the jailer’s ribs. The man cried out and pressed his free hand to his wound, blood pouring between his fingers. He swung the torch again and James batted it away, then slapped the flat of his sword on the jailer’s wrist, making him drop the improvised weapon. The jailer fell to his knees.

“The only monster here is me,” James said, before swinging his sword with all-mighty force and cleaving the jailer’s head from his body.

Glancing around the cellblock, the magistrate was nowhere to be found.

Wasting no time, James grabbed the keys from the jailer’s belt and unlocked Thomas’s cell. The taller man was visibly shaken, his eyes wide and a slight tremble to his frame as James removed his cuffs and gag. Thomas gasped a shaky breath and held tight to James for support, too shocked to speak.

“I need you to be brave,” James whispered.

He ran a thumb along Thomas’s jaw and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Run.”

*

Guards chased them from the jail, through the streets and into the outskirts of the town, forcing them away from the ocean with every step. Thomas was slower than James, but thanks to his longer legs they managed to roughly match each other’s pace, tearing through the town as though the ground were crumbling behind them. The shouts of the mob resonated in the distance.

James led them down a side street and stopped dead at the mouth of it, realising that it opened into a dead-end courtyard.

“In here!” Thomas pulled James through the nearest doorway, into a small stable with several horses.

The horses whinnied quietly at the intrusion. James reached out to pet the neck of the closest, a brown mare grazing on a stack of hay. Riding gear hung from nails in the wall and James felt an idea forming.

“I hope you know how to ride,” James said, pulling the equipment down.

They tacked up the brown mare (which Thomas had all-too-quickly named Myrtle) and mounted her, just as the cries of the mob became audible again. James waited for Thomas to tightly wrap his arms around him before snapping the reigns and kicking the horse into a full gallop.

They tore out of the stable and back up the narrow street that James and Thomas had run down not moments ago, dodging the odd person or chicken along the way. A yell rang out behind them and in that moment James knew they’d been spotted by their pursuers. He dug his heels into the mare’s belly and spurred her on.

Finding a clear path to the docks proved to be a staggering task, as guards and angry civilians alike streamed up the roads and blocked the way. A few even tried to grab for the reigns. James managed to avoid all attempts, but the acts made him desperate, fearful. Who knew what would happen if Thomas was recaptured now?

Unable to find a way to the sea, James made a flash decision: he steered them towards the cliffs.

“What are you doing?” Thomas yelled.

“We need to find a path down to the sea!” James yelled back.

There were no buildings on the cliffs, nor on the sloping fields leading up to them, so they granted the two men and their steed a speedy and unobstructed route up to their summit, which overlooked both the town and the ocean for miles in every direction. There, in the bay below them, sat the _Walrus_.

“She may as well be in Spain,” James said.

He dismounted and approached the cliff’s edge, peering down at the waves below. No safe path appeared before him.

Thomas dismounted too and joined James at the precipice. He looked over his shoulder at the town they’d just come from, with people spilling out of it like ants from their nest.

“Do you trust me?” Thomas asked.

James didn’t hesitate. He took Thomas’s hand. “With my life.”

Thomas smiled, squeezed James’s hand, then jumped into the ocean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter is late! I had to rework it a little and it ended up being way longer than I expected. 
> 
> The final chapter will be up very soon, certainly before Christmas. Keep your eyes peeled for it! Until then, you can find me on tumblr at www.actualkatebishop.tumblr.com
> 
> Anna's Black Sails edits are at: www.autisticdaisyjohnson.tumblr.com/tagged/blacksailsedit
> 
> And her flinthamilton playlist is here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5hGBxQhPk0lG8XbpnePMdo


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Thomas briefly describes his 'death' prior to meeting James. It shouldn't be triggering and I made sure to keep it short, but let me know if you need more details before reading on.

When James awoke, he was laid on his back in the sand; his body and clothes damp and waves tickling at his feet and ankles. The sun, blindingly bright, was near to its zenith now.

“Good, you’re awake.”

Propping himself up on his elbows, James looked around and saw Thomas smiling over at him. The blond looked just as wet as James felt, although his beautiful hair had mostly dried. A small fire crackled beside him, with driftwood and dried seaweed piled up in the middle of the flames. James scooted closer to the fire and held up his palms, shivering as the heat reached him.

“Where are we?” James asked.

“Looks like it’s an enclosed beach. I don’t know how close we are to the town, but no one can get to us from land. We’re safe.”

Thomas was right, they were surrounded by sheer cliff-faces in every direction save the ocean, which only had one ship on the horizon.

“The _Walrus_.”

“They’re on their way.”

Relieved, James turned his attention back to Thomas. Up close he could see the black marks under his eyes, the bloodshot whites and the tell-tale hint of dried blood coming from his hairline. Thomas had paid for James’s mistake, there was no doubting that.

“I owe you an apology,” James began. “I should have let you explain yourself before casting judgement, but I didn’t and it cost you.”

He reached up and cupped Thomas’s face. “This is my fault and there’s nothing that I can do to make it up to you. I’m so sorry, Thomas.”

Thomas held James’s gaze with a look of bittersweet affection, a sombre smile matched with a slight frown, and after a moment’s pause he closed the distance and kissed James. Unlike their previous kisses, this one was more chaste in nature, a gentle act of a gentle man.

“You thought you were protecting your crew, James. I can’t be mad at you.”

Hot tears formed at the corners of his eyes and James moved his hands to Thomas’s broad shoulders, holding firm as he rode out the emotion. He fought back the desire to pull Thomas close and instead opted for being able to see his face as he said, “I’m listening now. What really happened with the _Susan_?”

Thomas stroked the stubble of James’s jaw. “What I told you before, my noble heritage, my father’s ideas for Nassau, all of it – that was true.”

Something in Thomas’s expression shifted and he changed positions to sit next to James, his eyes trained on the horizon. He looked like a little boy, with his knees drawn up to his chin and his arms wrapped around them.

“I was sailing home to England when it happened. I suppose the ship’s crew had heard about my plans for Nassau and they disagreed with it. I’m not really sure.”

Thomas’s knuckles turned white. In a quiet voice, he continued, “It was dark when they made their move. I had turned in for the night, but I awoke when they bundled me into a sack. I struggled, but there were so many of them.”

Thomas was sobbing now, his face buried in his knees and his voice muffled. James, unsure of how to help, put his arm around Thomas and pulled him close.

“They threw me overboard.”

James felt an icy knife slip into his gut at these words. Thomas, sweet, caring, beautiful Thomas, cast overboard? If James hadn’t been so shocked he would have been furious.

“I thought I would drown. I think- I think I _did_. I blacked out. When I woke up, I had settled on the seabed and I could get out of the sack. I- I could breathe. I could breathe the salt water as though it were air.”

“A miracle,” James said.

Off in the distance, a rowboat had launched from the _Walrus_.

“I can’t help but think that I was spared for a reason,” Thomas continued. “I wanted answers, so I started looking for other like me. That’s what lead me to the _Susan_ – I was trailing the siren who sank her. I had no idea she was going to-“ he cuts himself off. “I feel responsible.”

James took Thomas’s hands and squeezed until Thomas looked up.

“What happened to that crew had nothing to do with you. You cannot blame yourself.”

Thomas nodded, but it was half-hearted at best. This wasn’t the type of wound that was so easily healed.

“You’re a brave man, Thomas Hamilton. The world could use more men like you.”

Sighing, Thomas finally relaxed and dropped his head onto James’s shoulder. James placed a kiss on his forehead and looked back at the rowboat coming in with the tide. He would have some explaining to do later, but for now he allowed himself to think of the future. It didn’t match up with the happy endings that always accompanied the stories his mother told him as a child, but James found that his own version was a far better ending than what he could have imagined.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for going on this journey with me! I hope you enjoyed reading it and please do share any thoughts either in the comments below or on tumblr! 
> 
> As always, you can find me on tumblr at www.actualkatebishop.tumblr.com
> 
> Anna's Black Sails edits are at: www.autisticdaisyjohnson.tumblr.com/tagged/blacksailsedit
> 
> And her flinthamilton playlist is here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5hGBxQhPk0lG8XbpnePMdo
> 
> Have a wonderful holiday season and a prosperous New Year!


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